Let Me Help You
by Isica
Summary: A case brings back unpleasant memories for Ziva. But someone's there for her. Rated T for one language use and mention of abuse.


Disclaimer: I own nothing except the plot, although I very much want Abby's technical wizardry.

Let Me Help You

Tony was tired.

Gibbs had given them the night off after an intensely harrowing case involving child abduction and abuse. Even looking at the pictures made him want to heave.

He crossed the car park to get to his car. He always made sure his current pride and joy was in the safest spot possible. Unfortunately, this usually meant it was furthest away from the entrance, a not inconsiderable distance.

Just as he was about to get into his car, Tony's quick ear caught the sound of some muffled sobbing. Concerned, he looked over and saw the astonishing sight of Ziva David sat in her car, tears running down her cheeks.

Tony rapidly crossed the car park and gently approached the car. 'Ziva?' he called tentatively.

Ziva started. 'Tony,' she said as she surreptitiously tried to wipe her eyes. 'I am fine.'

'Didn't say you weren't,' Tony replied as he came up to face the Israeli. 'But you're not.'

He knelt down next to her. 'Was it the case?'

It wouldn't have surprised him; even by their standards it was a particularly scarring case. The six year old daughter of a Marine had been abducted and subjected to both physical and sexual abuse. The NCIS team had eventually found and freed her, but she remained traumatised. Only time would tell if she would ever heal. Ziva had been sent to the hospital to document the girl's injuries and the resultant pictures had left them all horrified.

Ziva shook her head. 'It was not the case, exactly,' she murmured.

'What was it Ziva? Come on, you can talk to me.'

But Ziva didn't answer. The subject was a sensitive one and she felt unable to speak. Perhaps Tony realised this, because all at once he stood up and faced her.

'Ziva, let me drive you home. You've had a long day. I'll pick you up tomorrow as well but I don't think you should drive right now.'

To him it was a measure of Ziva's emotional turmoil that she allowed herself to be led over to Tony's car and into the passenger seat.

The drive home was silent, DiNozzo focusing on the traffic whilst Ziva sat quietly. Tony felt unable to say anything for fear of making Ziva clam up completely. He fiddled with the radio until he found his favourite channel, making sure that Ziva would appreciate what was on, and pretty soon they pulled up to her apartment.

He walked her to her door and waited while she got out her keys. She fumbled them and they dropped through her fingers onto the floor. Ziva hung her head and he realised, somewhat uncomfortably, that she was starting to cry again.

Bending down, he picked up the keys and eventually unlocked the door. Ziva walked through looking worse than before and he recognised that now was the time for intervention.

'Ziva,' he begun hesitantly, 'will you let me in?'

She stared at him, and he repeated his request. 'I don't know what's wrong, I just want to help. Let me help you.'

A small nod, and he was through the door.

He had a quick glance around the apartment. After the explosion some months ago, they'd only been able to salvage some of her personal items, so the place was quite bare. Two photographs that had survived and were instantly recognisable though, were the one of Ziva and Michael together and the family snapshot of a young Ziva with her father and half-brother Ari. Tony grimaced when he saw these. Both brought back painful memories.

He suddenly noticed that Ziva had slumped down onto her sofa. Carefully he sat down next to her.

'If it wasn't the case, what was it?' He knew he was on dangerous ground here, but he cared about Ziva and he was also worried about her. He cast his mind around. Something to do with your family? A personal matter?'

Unwittingly, he struck very near to the heart of the matter and Ziva fought to keep her self-control. She succeeded, although her eyes were full of unshed tears and her shoulders shook convulsively once or twice.

Tony said nothing, but extended his arm and drew her into a hug. For a moment there was silence in the room. Then Ziva sat back and looked Tony square in the face.

'The case,' she began slowly, then seeing the encouragement in Tony's eyes, continued, 'reminded me of the time I spent in Somalia.'

'In what way?' Tony didn't understand.

'In the way the girl was treated.' Ziva dipped her head, then with an effort, took in a deep breath and raised her eyes again. 'I was raped too. In Somalia. They used a bottle. They said they did not want to dirty themselves on some Israeli bitch. They wanted to keep themselves pure.'

'Oh Ziva,' Tony murmured, but she didn't hear him. It was all spilling out.

'I resisted the first time, but they said if I did they would use a knife the next time, so I stopped. This was as well as the torture that regularly occurred, all you were victim to and more.' She stopped suddenly and buried her face in her hands.

Tony shuffled closer and enveloped her in a bear hug. 'It's ok to cry Ziva. Just let it go.'

'I am Mossad,' came a muffled reply. 'We do not cry.'

'You were Mossad. Now you're one of us. And sometimes we do cry.'

Which just as well, for Ziva had already begun and it was a while before she had finished. The whole time, Tony just kept his arms around her and occasionally gently patting her back.

When she started to quieten, Tony sat back and looked at her shaking frame. He felt torn between sympathy towards his colleague and anger at the bastard who had reduced his fearless friend to this state. _It's a good job he's already dead_, thought Tony grimly, _otherwise I'd have torn him to pieces_.

Presently Ziva raised her head. Her face was tearstained and her make up had run. Tony might have laughed had the situation been less serious. Instead, he suggested she washed her face while he remained on the sofa.

When she returned, feeling much more refreshed, Tony gestured for her to sit down next to him. As she did so he picked up a large blanket he'd found from goodness-knows-where and placed it over her. Ziva snuggled underneath, somehow feeling warmer and safer than she had in a long time.

'Ziva,' Tony said, 'I realise you might object, but I think I should stay with you tonight. I'm not trying to, you know, flirt with you but if you wake up in the night feeling like you need to talk, then I'm here for you.'

'Thank you Tony, I would appreciate that,' said Ziva with some effort. In truth she was feeling exhausted after her crying, and couldn't be bothered to argue.

She leaned her head against Tony's shoulder in a rare display of vulnerability. If Tony was surprised, he didn't show it.

After about ten minutes Tony realised that Ziva had fallen asleep; still cuddled up to him. He smiled and let himself relax slightly before carefully settling back and closing his eyes.

In the morning they didn't talk about it, but went into work as usual. But the rest of the team noticed that their bond of friendship had suddenly deepened and the betrayal wounds healed.

'Let me help you,' Tony had said, and he did.


End file.
